The Dawn is Coming
by CaptainoftheUSSTardis
Summary: Five months ago, Lyssandra Wayne's father returned after a seven-year long disappearance. Five months ago, her father became a vigilante who saved Gotham from Ra's Al Ghul. Five months ago, her home was burnt to the ground, and nightmares have haunted her ever since. Now, she's finally starting to get her life back together... When the Joker threatens to take it all away.
1. Chapter I

**Author's Note: Here it is! Finally we have the first chapter the sequel to Why We Fall. I'm so sorry this has taken so long. However, I want to thank everyone who waited and stuck with Why We Fall. You guys are great :) Now without further ado, here is The Dawn is Coming. Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter One

Five months after the fire

 _ **Jab. Cross. Jab.**_ _Cross. Roundhouse. Front kick. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross._

Lyssandra Wayne breathed out with every blow. She punched and kicked the punching bag again and again, as if expelling the all-too clear memories of five months ago from her body, memories that still haunted her dreams. If only it were that easy.

Her knuckles were sore under the hand wraps, but she kept going, again and again. Those kung fu lessons were paying off. It had been her idea, to which Bruce and Rachel both agreed. Rachel thought the idea was much better than letting Bruce train her, which he had offered.

 _Light on your feet. Breathe in and out. Jab. Cross. Jab. Cross._ That night flashed in her mind. The fires, the screaming, the bashed-in windows, the terrifying version of Gotham she never wanted to see again. Then a few nights before that. Walker, his knife against her skin, and then the Batman. No. _Her father._ Then another memory flashed before her. This time of Wayne Manor, engulfed in flames. Her childhood home, reduced to a skeleton of soot and ashes. Where she would play hide-and-seek with her father, where she would walk down the stairs like a princess on her birthday.

Lysa hit the punching bag harder and harder. She couldn't get the image of her burning home out of her head, no matter how she tried. That's the thing about having photographic memory. You remember not only the good stuff, but the bad as well.

"It's a little early isn't it, even for you?" Lysa jumped at the sound of her father's voice. She steadied the punching bag and gazed at the clock above the entrance of the gym. Just before six-thirty. The gym was dimly lit and completely quiet. Treadmills, stationary bikes and elliptical machines stood alone throughout the massive room. The water in the Olympic-sized pool a floor below – which was visible through the glass floor – splashed around quietly. A generator below hummed quietly. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of a waking-up Gotham shone, and the sun was starting to rise beyond the skyline, through the cracks of the sky scrapers.

Usually, the gym wasn't even open this early. But being the daughter of a billionaire had its perks. Lysa took a long drink from her water bottle and turned to her father. He was already dressed in a clean-cut gray-and-white suit, leaning against one of the treadmills. "Isn't it a little early for _you?_ " Lysa countered, lips curving up into a small smirk. Bruce laughed, shaking his head, but didn't answer.

"I couldn't sleep," Lysa replied finally, unwrapping the hand wraps. "Nightmares again?" Bruce asked, moving towards her. His face became concerned in an instant. She nodded, taking another drink of water. "Doing this," she gestured to the punching bag. "Helps me clear my head… somewhat."

"Me too," Bruce nodded. He moved and sat down on the floor beside the punching bag. A moment later, Lysa joined him. "What were they about? The nightmares," he asked. Lysa shrugged. "The same as before. Of that night, of Walker… of… of the manor," she tried to keep her voice from braking. She'd woken up too many times before crying about Wayne Manor… or the lack thereof. "Hey, honey, it's okay," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Ugh, Dad, you don't have to do that. I'm all sweaty," she couldn't help but giggle. "Well, then I'll change. That won't stop me." He pulled her closer, and she rested her head on her father's shoulder.

They stayed there for a while, ten minutes, then twenty, only watching the sun rise, lighting up the city. Cars and sirens whizzed by on the streets, a least fifty storeys below. Pedestrians and cyclists joined them, starting the early morning rush. The sounds she spent seven years listening to in her mother's apartment surrounded her again, this time with her father.

"You never answered my question. Isn't itfor _you_?" Lysa asked, smiling. "I heard that the Batman was out pretty late last night."

"Yeah, but Bruce Wayne has to be in for work in the morning," he replied, giving no indication of how tired he must be. "Well just don't sleep through any meetings."

"Hey, I only did that a few times," he said, defensive. "I'm sure you did," Lysa replied sarcastically. "But maybe, you're just getting old." Bruce nudged her playfully, and she giggled. "I'm not _that_ old," he said. They both laughed a little longer before she spoke again. "I think you're doing some good, Dad. As Batman. But don't be reckless." It felt like it was the millionth time she was telling her father something along the lines of "Be safe" or "Don't do anything stupid". Bruce smiled. "I know what I'm doing. And like I said, I'd never leave you."

"I know," Lysa replied softly. Then a question that had been dwelling in her mind recently reached her head. "Does Mom know? About you? About the Batman?" she asked. During the past five months, she and her mother had never brought up the subject of the Batman. "Yes, she does," Bruce replied. "She found out around the same time you did."

"Does she know I know?" She asked. He smiled. "Yes. And she gave me a very stern warning not to get you involved in it." Lysa could believe it.

It was now seven, and the gym was officially open. People would start coming in for their morning workouts soon. Lysa stood and grabbed her water bottle and hand wraps. "I have to get ready for school," she said, walking towards the entrance of the gym. "Want me to drive you?" Bruce asked, following her to the elevators. "You always do," she replied. She pressed the elevator button, and the doors opened a minute later. Bruce and Lysa stepped into the sleek wooden interior of the elevator and he pressed the button for the top floor, which was really two floors. The penthouse.

"I'll take that as a yes," Bruce said as they stepped out of the elevator into their penthouse. It was bright with the sun's rays shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lysa left her bottle on the granite kitchen island and headed to her room. It wasn't as large as her room in Wayne Manor, but it was a loft. On the bottom level was a sitting area and TV and her desk, while the upper level housed her bed and bookcases. She was still trying to reacquire all the books she'd lost in the fire, and so far had over half. She'd gotten a new laptop as well, an early Christmas gift from her father. Luckily, she had her whole computer backed up on a wireless external hard drive that she kept at her mother's, so she didn't lose any of her assignments. She turned it on and checked her email for college responses as she did every morning. Her face fell as the screen loaded – nothing new. She'd been checking every day for the past month, growing more and more anxious every day. She'd applied back in December to both the University of Gotham and Princeton for an undeclared major. Mason had already gotten acceptance responses for his colleges, and Alexa got an acceptance response from one of hers.

Bruce told her that Princeton always responds late, but that did little to reassure her. He even wanted to write to Princeton's admissions office personally, but Lysa refused to let him. Sighing, she closed the browser and closed her laptop. Maybe she'd check again that afternoon.

 _Goodnight Moon_ lay atop the short shelf at the end of her bed, a bittersweet reminder. Even after the fire, it still felt good to flip through the pages and read it at night.

After a cleansing shower and a breakfast of yogurt and granola, Lysa grabbed her school bag and headed to the garage below the building. Bruce had his own personal lot, which held the majority of his cars. He kept the rest in some other garage in the city, a few blocks away. Bruce got into the driver's seat of the silver Lamborghini, and Lysa slipped into the passenger's seat. She was becoming more comfortable with arriving to school in Bruce's ostentatious cars. She was hardly the topic of the school's gossip anymore, which she was perfectly fine with. Though there still were a few paparazzi who waited outside her school more often than not. Since her father's return, they'd dubbed her the "Heiress of Gotham", a name plastered on every trashy gossip magazine. But it was nothing she couldn't handle. Her life was finally getting back to normal, not that her life ever _was_ normal.

It was only a short drive from their building to Gotham Central High. The sky shone brightly and a slight breeze danced in the March air. It was still chilly outside, and effect of the passing winter. Bruce had the radio playing low, on the GCN news station like always. The quiet voice of the reporter filled the otherwise silent car. He was going on and on about Harvey Dent - the newly elected DA who happened to be dating her mother - and his plans to crack down on crime. "What do you think the new DA?" Lysa spoke up, searching for something to say. Bruce shrugged. "Seems alright. He's ambitious though, I'll give him that," he replied. He wasn't wrong - the crime rates hadn't been getting any better. "Mom seems to have taken an interest in him," she noted, remembered all of the news articles that showed them together, hand-in-hand. Plus, Rachel wouldn't stop talking about him whenever they met for lunch, which they were doing a least every other a week. She seemed pretty serious about their relationship. "I've noticed," Bruce said, turning into the financial district. A tinge of jealously laced his voice, almost unnoticeable. "I haven't even met him yet, but Mom was adamant that we meet," she told him.

"I'm sure she was," Bruce smiled, but it faded when he noticed the traffic in front of them. It was a long line of school buses. But Lysa's eyes widened when she noticed a hole blown into the side of the bank, and then a school bus emerged from the hole, joining in line with the others. "What the hell was that?" Lysa breathed, eyes fixed on the bus. Bruce had his eyes fixed on the situation as well, though still weaving through traffic. "Robbery, by the looks of it. I'll check it out later tonight. I'm sure Officer Gordon will want me there," he told her. Lysa smirked. "So what, are you and Officer Gordon in cahoots now?" she asked, giggling. "I thought you were a vigilante."

"The police might be out of their depth with this," Bruce replied, turning onto her school's street. "You _always_ say that," she said, nudging him softly.

Bruce pulled up to the front of her school, and Lysa grabbed her school bag and got out into the chilly spring air. "Love you, honey," Bruce said before she could close the car door. Lysa smiled warmly at her father. "Love you, too," she said and then strode through the entrance of the school.

* * *

The school day dragged on as usual, though people would not stop talking about what happened that morning at the bank, like it was the only crime that had committed in a century. Rumours were buzzing around all morning in all of her classes, until finally the news screens during lunch covered the story.

"It was the mob's money, you know," Alexa said at the cafeteria table, picking at her lunch in a Thermos. "Where on earth did you hear that?" Mason asked in disbelief. "A few of the freshmen were talking about it," Alexa replied.

"She's right," Lysa confirmed, listening to the television screens that covered the story. "I told you," Alexa said, nudging Mason. A group of men in clown masks had robbed the bank, ran away with the mob's money. All of them were shot. All except the leader, a man they called the Joker. When they showed a picture of the Joker on the screens, Lysa shifted in her seat. Definitely unsettling, to say the least. He had stringy green hair, and his face was painted white. Red paint surrounded his mouth, trying to cover up the scars on either end of it. Or perhaps they accented them.

"That is just messed up," Mason said, pointing the TV screen. Finally, Lysa looked away and focused on her lunch, which she now had a loss of appetite for. "I'm surprised the Batman didn't show up and save the day," Alexa said wistfully. Lysa scoffed. "Daytime isn't really his thing," she said before she could stop herself. She looked at her two friends to gauge their reactions. They wouldn't think anything of it. "What makes you the Batman expert?" Alexa asked, looking at her quizzically. "I pay attention to the news," Lysa said nonchalantly. She technically wasn't lying. "He only ever comes out at night from what I've seen."

"Plus, she's the only one of us that's actually met him," Mason added, defending Lysa. "I wouldn't call it a meeting. We merely... exchanged glances," Lysa explained, trying to brush off the whole subject. She was surprised she'd lasted this long without letting something slip. So far, no one suspected her father could be the Batman, and they had to keep it that way. A few days after the fire, after Lysa found out, he'd told her that he doesn't kill – it was his one rule. But somehow she thought that the police wouldn't take that into consideration if they ever found out. No, they couldn't find out. Lysa wouldn't let that happen. She couldn't lose her father again.

After a particular gruelling fitness class of jogging, hurdles and more exercises that she could've sworn the class only had to do because the teacher was in a bad mood, the final bell rang and Lysa walked to her locker. The sweat on her body was becoming cool.

She grabbed her note books from her locker and stuffed them into her bag, and walked to the entrance of the school. Alfred was waiting outside in the Rolls Royce as usual, as well as a handful of photographers. The gossiping about her among the students might have slowed, but the media certainly hadn't. When she pushed the doors open, the clicking of cameras started almost immediately, and she could feel a hundred eyes on her. "Miss Wayne, Miss Wayne!" The photographers shouted. She quickened her pace to the car.

"Hey, Wayne! Get your father to come here! Maybe he'll burn the place down!" A voice yelled across the front lawn of the school, and then low laughter followed. _It'_ _s_ _been five months, couldn't people just forget about it?_ Lysa's fist clenched around the strap of her school bag, and she didn't turn around to see who spoke. She continued to the car and got in the passenger's seat with a huff. "What was all that about?" Alfred asked as he started the car and pulled away from the school. Lysa waved it off. "Just some idiot, it's nothing. But I'm getting tired of these photographers."

Alfred gave her a look of disbelief. "Miss Wayne, I know when someone has hurt you." Lysa smiled softly. _Of course he did._ "It was about the fire…" Lysa said. "But I'm fine, Alfred, really. He was just some guy who doesn't know any better." Alfred smiled at reassuringly. If those people knew the truth, they wouldn't be laughing. But if they knew the truth… her father would most likely be in jail. Or have a massive target on his back.

The car turned down the financial district, and Lysa gazed at the bank from that morning. Reporters and news cameras swarmed the front of the bank, and lines of police cars were parked on either side of the street. "I'm assuming you saw the news about it?" Lysa asked, not taking her eyes off the bank. "I did. Don't know what to make of this 'Joker' character, but I'm sure your father will deal with him soon enough," Alfred replied.

"I hope so, Alfred."

* * *

Later than night, Lysa was trying to do text book readings for chemistry, but found her thought wandering off every other minute. The picture of the Joker wouldn't leave her head, or what the boy had said after school. She knew it was stupid to dwell on his words. They were incorrect and ignorant. But… she hated when people saw her father as some stuck-up playboy. That's not who he really was. But if people were going to rule him off the Batman suspect list, he would have to appear irresponsible. It was immensely frustrating.

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, which she was thankful for. Her father stood at the door, still in dress pants and button-up shirt. "I'm going out, could be a while." Even though he went out practically every night, he always told her. Lysa nodded. "What are you going to do about that Joker guy?" she asked. "My focus now is stopping the mob. The Joker… is an afterthought," he replied. "Well I wouldn't underestimate that _afterthought_ ," she said, crossing her arms. Bruce let out a small laugh. "Don't worry about me," he walked over to kiss her on the head. After, Lysa pulled him in for a hug. "Stay safe," she breathed. Bruce smiled at her.

"You know me. I'm always careful."


	2. Chapter II

**Author's Note: So sorry for the long wait! I meant to get this up earlier but it didn't work out. Anyways, enjoy!**

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Chapter Two

The day after the mob robbery

 **Lyssandra awoke the** next morning feeling more tired than usual. Well, that was to be expected. She'd stayed up until one reading her chemistry text book, and then another hour after that staring at the flood light depicting the Batman symbol above the city. It was funny… the police were ordered to arrest the Batman on sight but they stilled needed him. It almost made Lysa laugh.

Finally, she crawled out of bed and took a slightly-too-long shower. As she made her way to the expansive kitchen, a dead silence filled the air. The soft humming of the cars down on the streets seemed a hundred miles away. Usually her father would – miraculously – be up by now, ready to take her to school. Perhaps he had a rough night and was sleeping. Lysa grabbed an apple off the island and made her way to her father's room.

The bed was neatly made, untouched. Bruce wasn't there, nor had he been there for hours. Alfred entered a few minutes later with a small breakfast on wooden tray. "He's not here," she told him, taking a bite of the apple. Alfred sighed, but not in frustration. "I think I know where he is," he replied, setting down the tray on an ottoman. "I'll come with you," she said. He looked at her, quizzically. "Don't you have to get to school?" Alfred questioned, heading towards the elevator. Lysa gazed at the clock hanging above the island as she passed it. It was seven, and her school didn't start for another two hours. "I got time," she said, grabbing her school bag from the bar stool at the island and following Alfred into the elevator.

Rush hour made driving through the streets of Gotham a nuisance, but Alfred managed to keep the Rolls Royce out of traffic, staying off the main roads. They approached a warehouse surrounded by a chain link fence, with signs all around stamped with PROPERTY OF WAYNE ENTERPRISES. Alfred drove through an opening in the fence and parked beside a huge red shipping container. "Miss Wayne, could you get the key from the glove compartment?" He asked as he exited the car. Lysa nodded and fished around the glove compartment until she found the key. She exited the car and handed it to Alfred, who unlocked a door craved in the container. "Don't you think people will notice a fancy car parked by a shipping container?" Lysa asked. "People never do," Alfred replied, leading her into the container.

It was completely dark, but fluorescent lighting filled the container as they descended a level, to reveal an expansive concrete room, with computers and equipment and a glass container displaying the Bat Suit. The new Batcave. She'd only been down here a few times in the past several months. Bruce liked to try and keep her out of his Batman business, to "protect her". Most of the time that wouldn't stop her.

Bruce was sitting at the desk in the centre of the room, stitching himself up. _Must've been a rough night._ "It'll be nice when Wayne Manor is rebuilt," Alfred commented. "You can trade not sleeping in a penthouse to not sleeping in a mansion." Lysa laughed and strode next to her father. She gazed at his arm, which his was attempting to stitch up, but as usual he wasn't doing a very good job. _He certainly didn't study medicine while at Princeton. Or much of anything._ "You always make such a mess when you do that," Lysa told him. Bruce laughed. "Makes me learn from my mistakes," he said. "Hey, don't you have to get to school?" Lysa rolled her eyes. "School doesn't stark for another hour and a half," she said. Alfred took the needle from Bruce and started suturing the rest of the wound. "My armour, I'm carrying too much weight. I need to be much faster," Bruce said. "I'm sure Mr. Fox can oblige," Alfred replied, then gaped at his wound. "Did you get mauled by a tiger?"

"It was a dog," Bruce corrected. Lysa's eyes widened. "A dog?"

"It was a _big_ dog." Lysa smirked. Bruce shook his head. "There were copycats last night. With guns," he said. "Maybe you should hire them, take weekends off," Alfred suggested. "That sounds good," Lysa smiled. "We could finally travel somewhere… To London, or Paris. Somewhere that's _not_ a business trip." Bruce laughed and put his arm around her shoulder. "That wasn't really what I had in mind when I said I wanted to inspire people."

"I know," Alfred said. "But things are improving. Look at the new district attorney." He motioned to one of the computer monitors that was playing a newsreel. It showed the new DA giving speeches and walking to his office. "I am," Bruce said. "I need to know if he can be trusted."

Lysa shrugged. "He seems nice enough."

"Are you interested in his character… or his social circle?" Alfred asked. The newsreel played a clip of Harvey and Rachel walking hand-in-hand. A weird feeling welled in her chest. She had to admit, it was odd seeing her mother in a relationship with someone other than her father. During the seven years he'd disappeared, Rachel had been so involved in her work that she never made time for any sort of relationship. But now… Lysa had faith the DA was a good match for her mother. "Who Rachel spends her spare time with is her business," Bruce said. "Well I trust you're not following _me_ on my day off," Alfred said, jokingly. "If you ever took one, I might," Bruce replied, letting go of Lysa to put on a white button-up shirt. "Don't worry, Alfred. I'm sure Dad has put tracking devices in our phones," Lysa said. "Hey, I respect your privacy," Bruce countered. He chuckled but it turned into a wince. Both Lysa and Alfred caught a glance of Bruce's burns and scars on his back. The sight made her stomach flip.

"Know your limits, Master Wayne," Alfred said, solemnly. "Batman has no limits," her father said, making Lysa shake her head. _Didn't he have any concern for his safety?_ "Well _you_ do, sir," Alfred countered. "Can't afford to know them," Bruce said nonchalantly. "Dad," Lysa said, her voice faltering. "What happens the day you find out?" Alfred asked. "Well, we all know how much you like to say 'I told you so'."

"On that day, I don't think I would want to," Alfred said. "Probably."

* * *

When the lunch bell rang later that day, Lysa put her textbooks in her locker and headed out the entrance of the school to catch a cab. She and her mother were meeting for lunch, a tradition they'd started after she and Bruce moved into the penthouse. And because she had a free period right after lunch, she didn't have to rush back to the school. She'd just heard about her mother's trial from the GCN news app on her phone, and was anxious to see how she was doing. Lysa knew her mother would hold up just fine... but having a gun pulled on you in court... the thought sent shivers up her spine.

They were meeting a Mexican place near the DA's office, since Rachel had to be close to work if she was needed in a hurry. The cab ride was quick, even in the lunch hour traffic, and Lysa quickly paid the cabbie and bounded out of the cab into the restaurant. She saw her mother sitting at a booth… with someone else. A man with blond hair. "Hey, Mom," she said as she approached the booth. She could clearly see the man sitting across from her now. The newly elected DA. Harvey Dent. "Hey, sweetie," Rachel stood up. Harvey stood as well. "Lysa, this is Harvey Dent," she gestured to him. Harvey extended his hand. Lysa shook it with a smile. "And this is my daughter, Lyssandra," Rachel said.

"Yes, the Heiress of Gotham," Harvey said, to which Rachel nudged him and shot him a look. Lysa only laughed it off, though she couldn't help but narrow her eyes ever so slightly. "Pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." He smiled and sat back down. Lysa sat down beside her mother. "And I've heard a lot about you," she said and then turned towards her mother. "And I read about the trial this morning... are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Lysa. Don't worry about me. It was Harvey here, who they were after," Rachel said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, I read that you disarmed the witness. A very bold move," Lysa smiled at the DA. "Keep up with the news, huh?" Harvey asked. Lysa nodded. "I like being informed with what goes on in this city. Oh, and congratulations on making district attorney."

"Thank you, Lysa," he said. "I plan to really clean up this city."

"Harvey, you already won. You don't have to convince people to vote for you anymore," Rachel said, laughing. "Sorry, force of habit," Harvey replied. "No, it's okay," Lysa said. "I'm glad you're passionate about your cause."

"Yeah, I'm almost as passionate as the Batman," Harvey said, jokingly. Lysa forced a laugh to cover up a moment of tenseness, though she prayed it didn't sound forced. "Well at least we'll have someone who can put away criminals by the books," she said, sipping the glass of water at her place setting. "But let's not talk about the vigilante," Harvey said. "I want to know everything about you. I hope to love you as much as I love your mother." Lysa smiled, her cheeks becoming hot. Perhaps the new DA wasn't as bad as her father thought.

* * *

Lysa was surprised to see her father going through papers in the living room when she got off the elevator into the penthouse after school. She dropped her school bag on a bar stool at the kitchen island and walked over to her father. "How was school?" he asked without looking up. "The usual. Vicious note-taking and photographers waiting outside," she said, sitting down on the leather sofa beside him. "And I don't know why you still insist on you or Alfred driving me to school. I'm perfectly capable; I got my license last month." Bruce laughed. "The first time your drove yourself to school you rear-ended the Audi into a parking meter." Lysa rolled her eyes. He would never let that go. Just once she drove herself to school with her father in the passenger seat and she bumped the tail light into a stupid parking meter. "I didn't even hit the meter that hard," she insisted. "It hardly left a scratch! The light wasn't even broken."

"It still costs money to have it repainted," Bruce said. _It's not like they didn't have the money,_ Lysa thought sourly. "I still want my redemption," she said, giving her father a look. Bruce only chuckled. "Someday," he said, making Lysa roll her eyes. "The office let you go early?" She asked, changing the subject. Sirens and cars buzzed in the streets below. The rush of people exiting office buildings was just starting. Soon, the sidewalks would be filled with pedestrians making their way home for the evening. "Sort of," Bruce smiled. "I uh… feel asleep during a meeting."

Lysa scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. Now I really think you should hire those copycats," she said, to which Bruce chuckled. "I can handle myself." Lysa shook her head. "One day you'll say that and not even _you_ will believe it," she told him. Her father didn't say anything in response.

"But, I met the district attorney today," she said. "During lunch with Mom." Bruce raised an eyebrow and set his papers down on the glass coffee table. "Oh really. And what's your verdict?" he asked. "Well, he did call me the 'Heiress of Gotham', which only slightly annoyed me-"

"What, you don't like that name?" Bruce laughed. Lysa hit him jokingly on the shoulder. "But other than that… he seems fine. I think Batman could trust him."

"I'll be the judge of that," he replied. Lysa giggled. "Don't you trust _me_?" she asked in mock-offense. "More than anything," he said. "Then trust me on this," Lysa insisted. Bruce scoffed softly and stood up from the sofa. "I'm actually meeting with him and Rachel tonight for dinner," he said. "Oh, like a double date?" she asked, smiling. "Or are you planning on crashing _their_ date?" Bruce chuckled but didn't look up. He never would stop prying. "And which poor soul will be accompanying you for this dinner?" Bruce shot her a friendly glare. "A very nice woman named Natascha. She's a ballerina for the Russian ballet."

"I didn't know you were into dancers," Lysa replied. Bruce only laughed. Then she realized something: her mother loved the ballet. "Are you trying to make Mom _jealous_?" she asked. He cleared his throat, but didn't say anything. "Real mature of you," she said, laughing. "Like I need dating advice from you," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen island. Lysa scoffed. "You might. As a matter of fact, I have a date tonight as well." Ever since that party at the Ritz Carlton five months ago, she and Emerson Gerald had grown closer, getting lunch together, watching Netflix – at his house of course, Lysa hadn't worked up the courage to introduce Emerson to her father, and whenever she brought up the subject, he always found a way to talk about something else – and going to movies. Most of time, she didn't get to tell her father of their relationship, he'd been busy with work or out jumping across roof tops. Finally, a few days ago, Emerson asked her out on a proper date. He was picking her up at six and taking her to dinner, but he kept it a secret as to where.

Bruce did a double take, as if mishearing what Lysa'd said. " _A date_?" he asked, drawing closer. She knew he'd act like this. "Yes, a date. I am allowed to go on a date, right?" She asked, though it really wasn't a question. She _would_ go on this date. "And who is the boy, or girl, taking you on this date?" he asked. "His name is Emerson Gerald." Bruce was still unconvinced. "He smoke?" Lysa rolled her eyes. "No," she replied firmly. "Does he deal?"

"No."

"Does he drink?"

"Only on holidays."

"What's his grade average?"

"Straight A's. God, will you stop with the interrogation? Is it going to be this way with every guy?" Bruce shrugged. "I don't know. Are you planning to bring home other guys?" He asked, smirking. Lysa shut her eyes and let out a long breath. "Dad, Emerson is _fine._ He's that rich politician's nephew, uh, Jack Riley?" Bruce raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed. "Well I guess I'll just have to meet him. When's he coming over?"

"Six, and our reservation's at six twenty."

"Where's he taking you?" Bruce asked. "I don't know. He said it was a surprise," she replied. Bruce still seemed unconvinced. "Just give him a chance, okay? You said you trust me more than anything," Lysa practically pleaded. Finally her father gave in. "Got me there," he said, smiling. Lysa smiled in return. "Besides, I think you would find a way to go on this date even if I said no," he said, mostly to himself. Lysa giggled.

"You know me too well."


	3. Chapter III

**Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for being so patient with this fic! I've been super busy these past few months (with a tinge of writer's block) but hopefully they'll be more chapters up soon. Thanks again and enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter Three

Two hours after arriving home from school

* * *

 **At six o'clock** sharp, the elevator doors chimed open. Lyssandra was in her room, brushing her damp, light brown hair into a side part. Her heart fluttered when she heard the ding of the elevator, and she brushed down her mid-length sapphire chiffon dress.

Grabbing her purse and exiting her room, she hastily walked to the elevator, hopping her father wouldn't get there first. To her relief, he joined her just before entering the main entrance hall. "Be nice, okay?" Lysa asked, eyeing her father. He only smiled as they continued down the hall. When Emerson floated into view, he was staring at the penthouse in awe, hands in his pockets. He was wearing black dress pants and blazer with a gray dress shirt. Along with his warm honey eyes and black hair, he looked positively lovely. "Emerson!" Lysa said, smiling they shared a quick embrace. "You look beautiful," he said as they hugged. "You do, too," she replied.

"Some place you have, Lysa," he said as they pulled apart, laughing awkwardly. "You should've seen the manor," she replied quickly, perhaps not taking the time to realize the words coming out of her mouth. But Emerson laughed with her and he seemed to relax a little. "Emerson, this is my father, Bruce," she introduced them. "Dad, this is Emerson Gerald." They shook hands stiffly. "Good to meet you, Mr. Wayne, Sir," Emerson said, locking eyes with Bruce. "You too, Mr. Gerald," Bruce smiled. They shared an awkward silence for a moment in which Bruce seemed to be studying Lysa's date. She gave her father a gently nudge as if to say _knock it off._ "And where will you be taking Lysa, Mr. Gerald?" he asked. Emerson swallowed, but Lysa took his hand in hers. "A restaurant in the city. Don't worry Mr. Wayne, I won't keep her past eleven."

"Ten-thirty," Bruce stated firmly. " _Dad_ ," Lysa groaned and rolled her eyes. Emerson shrugged it off. "It's okay. Now we should be going, our dinner is in fifteen minutes," he said, checking his watch. Lysa smiled and hugged her father. "Bye, Dad," she whispered. He kissed her on the cheek. "Bye, love," he said. Lysa turned to the elevator doors as they opened, and she and Emerson entered them, leaving the penthouse behind.

When the elevator doors closed, Lysa turned to Emerson. "See? It wasn't _that_ bad. You should've seen the interrogation he gave me when I brought it up," she said. Emerson laughed. "You're right. It could've been much worse. I wasn't expecting him to be so… calm."

"Were you expect the whole 'I'll kill you if you touch my daughter' spiel?" Lysa laughed. "Actually, yeah," Emerson admitted, flushing. "Well don't worry, that comes on the second date." He paled ever so slightly, making her laugh. "I'm kidding, Emerson," he said and he relaxed.

The elevator doors opened and they walked through the expansive lobby of the building. Through the glass doors, there was a group of photographers waiting and whispering amongst each other. Lysa sighed inwardly. "Sorry about this," she said quietly, nodding to the reporters lifting up their cameras. Emerson shook his head with a smile. "It's no problem. My car is parked just outside," he said, pointing to a black Mercedes with tinted windows. Lysa's eyebrows rose. "Very nice," she said.

The doorman of the building opened the doors for them, and they pushed their way through the reporters. Emerson's hand was on the small of her back as he opened the passenger door for her. Saying a quiet thank you, she slid into the seat as Emerson sat in the driver's seat. The car pulled away into the busy streets a second later.

The sky was still a pale shade of blue, but the moon glowed through softly. With the changing season, the sun was starting to set later and later, something Lysa loved. She hated when it was the dead of winter and dark at four-thirty.

"So what's this about not taking anything from your uncle?" Lysa asked, remembering the comment he'd made just a few weeks before at school. Emerson shrugged, but smiled. "Well, I don't actively take from him, but he does provide for us." Lysa raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess… and birthday present?"

"Early grad present… though I pay for the insurance and maintenance myself."

"How very humble of you," Lysa teased. "Ah, we're here," he said, pulling up to a tall building she quickly recognized from the papers. All of the celebrities and rich socialites in Gotham had at least one picture in or on the steps of the building. A valet opened the passenger door and helped Lysa out. Emerson was by her side a second later, leading her into the building. The valet got into the car to park it elsewhere.

When they entered the restaurant, Lysa nearly squinted at the bright crystal chandeliers, gold-painted walls and mirrors. "Oh my God," she breathed. Of all the times she'd seen the building, she never saw the inside. It practically took her breath away, which was saying something considering she was raised in Wayne Manor.

"Well since all of our other dates were pretty low-key, I thought that this would be good for an official date. It isn't too extravagant, right? We can go to a Keg or something…" Emerson trailed off, making Lysa giggle. "No, it's fine. Despite my name, I haven't been to a lot of socialite functions," she said. "In fact, the last one I went to… the, uh, house burnt down." Lysa looked down at her black flats, slightly regretting bringing it up. "Yeah, I heard about that… sorry," he said. She smiled gratefully.

"Can I help you," the maître d' chimed in. Emerson turned towards him. "Yes, I have a reservation for two under Riley." Lysa raised her eyebrow, to which Emerson shrugged lightly. "Ah yes, follow me please," the maître d' said. The two followed the man two a small round table in the far left of the restaurant. They could see the entrance, but it was also tucked away to have some privacy.

The maître d' handed them menus and filled their glasses with water, then left the table. "How'd you get a reservation here? And under _Riley_?" Lysa asked, gazing at the menu. "I might've said my uncle will hold a fundraiser here for his next campaign," he replied, making her scoff. "And will he?"

"I think I can convince him." He gazed at his menu again. "How does the prime rib sound?"

The night passed in a blur of lights, food and talking. There was almost never a silent moment between them, except for when Lysa savoured the salmon she'd ordered. They talked about everything they could think off, music, movies, their favourite teachers, the drug raid that was supposed to happen next week, even her photographic memory.

"It's not all remembering information on a page," Lysa explained, scooping some chocolate mousse into her mouth. "Sometimes I remember things I would rather forget…" Flashes of the burning manor hit her like a bullet, as well as the night Walker pulled a knife on her. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. "So you can read a page in a text book and remember it all?" Emerson asked. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she replied. "So that's how you get your Ivy-level grades."

"You don't think I could get them on my own?" Lysa raised an eyebrow. Emerson's smile dropped. "No, that's not what I meant," he replied, flustered. "I'm teasing," she said, giggling.

They continued talking long after they finished desert, and when it came time to pay the bill, Emerson insisted he pay. Lysa refused to let him pay for the whole dinner, and they eventually came to an agreement that they would each pay half.

Just as they were about to leave their table after paying, Lysa saw her father and woman that must've been Natascha enter the restaurant. They sat down with Rachel are Harvey, whom Lysa had been too busy talking with Emerson to notice enter the restaurant. "Emerson, I'm just going to use the restroom, okay?" she said. He nodded as she left the table to discreetly approach her father's table. They looked like they were getting along just fine, to Lysa's relief. No throwing wine glasses yet, though she doubted it would ever get that far. Lysa spotted an empty table about six feet away and took a seat. She asked a passing waiter for a menu and then pulled it to cover her face. Hopefully her parents wouldn't notice. She fought the urge to laugh. It felt like she was in a movie.

"How could you want to raise children in a city like this?" Natascha asked, taking a sip of wine. Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I was raised here, I turned out okay. My daughter was raised here, and she's grown into a smart and generous young woman, though it's hard for me to believe. It seemed like just yesterday she was learning to ride a bike," he countered. Lysa felt pride swelling through her. "Is Wayne Manor _in_ the city limits?" Harvey asked, making Lysa roll her eyes. Rachel shot him a look. "The Palisades? Sure. You know, as our new DA you _might_ want to figure out where your jurisdiction ends," Bruce smirked, and Lysa couldn't help but giggle behind the menu.

"I'm talking about the kind of city that idolizes a masked vigilante," Natascha explained. "Gotham's proud of an ordinary man standing up for what's right," Harvey countered. "Gotham needs heroes like _you –_ elected officials, not a man who thinks he's above the law."

"Exactly. Who appointed the Batman?" Bruce asked. " _We_ did," Harvey replied. "All of us who stood by and let scum take control of our streets."

"But this is a _democracy,_ Harvey," Natascha said. Harvey considered her for a moment. "When their enemies were at the gates, the Romans would suspend democracy and appoint one man to protect the city. It wasn't considered an honour. It was considered a public service," Harvey explained. Lysa watched her father as Harvey talked. He seemed genuinely interested and even… _impressed._ "The last man they asked to protect the city was Caesar and never gave up his power," Rachel countered, smiling.

Harvey sat back against his chair. "Well, you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Whoever the Batman is, he doesn't want to do this for the rest of his life, how could he? Batman's looking for someone to take up his mantel."

"Someone like you, Mr. Dent?" Natascha asked, laughing lightly. "Maybe, if I'm up too it," Harvey smiled. Lysa rolled her eyes. _He couldn't be serious._ Natascha picked up her napkin and covered the top half of Harvey's face. "What if Harvey Dent _is_ the caped crusader?"

"If _I_ were sneaking out every night someone would've noticed by now," Harvey replied, gazing at Rachel and taking her hand in his. Bruce shifted in his seat awkwardly. For a split second Lysa and Bruce's eyes met, and she quickly hid behind the menu again. Hopefully he didn't realize it was her. He wouldn't approve of her eavesdropping.

"Well you've sold me, Dent," Bruce said after a momentary silence. "I'm going to throw you a fundraiser." Harvey smiled gratefully. "That's nice of you, Bruce. But I'm not up for re-election for three years. That stuff won't start for-"

"I don't think you understand. One fundraiser with _my_ pals, and you'll never need another cent," Bruce replied.

"Is this what you call using the restroom?" Emerson suddenly took a seat at the table beside her, making her jump. "God, Emerson, you scared me," Lysa breathed. They both turned their gaze to her father's table. "Spying on your father and the DA?" he asked. "No, just seeing how they're getting on," Lysa replied. "And could you keep your voice down?"

Emerson laughed and hid his face behind the menu as well. "And how are they getting on?"

"Pretty well, actually. Dad's going to throw him a fundraiser," she said. "How very philanthropic of him," he replied. "We should get going," Lysa said putting down the menu and standing up from the table. Luckily, her parents and their dates were too involved in their own conversation to notice her. Emerson smiled and they walked out of the busy restaurant. She hadn't noticed would thick the air in the restaurant was until the cool spring air surrounded her. The sky above them was dark, but no stars could be seen. The lights of buildings and cars made them too difficult to see. Even on the large balcony of her penthouse, the twinkle of the stars was so light she could barely see them. She missed stargazing at the manor.

Emerson gave his ticket to the valet station and within five minutes his car was brought around. Lysa slid into the passenger seat and soon they were driving back into the bright streets of Gotham.

"That wasn't you I saw at the restaurant, _hiding behind a menu,_ was it?" Her father asked as soon as he entered the penthouse that night. The sound of his voice made Lysa jump and nearly spill her herbal tea. She set her tea on a ceramic coaster on the coffee table and looked up at her father. "You almost caused a horrific red stain on the carpet," she said. Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Don't change the subject," he said, taking off his tie. Lysa sighed and crossed her arms. "Yes I was me. It was the restaurant Emerson just so happened to have reservation at."

"And you just so happened to be interested in our conversation," he asked, taking a seat on the sofa beside her. "Perhaps… but I wanted to see how you and Harvey were getting on," she replied, smirking. "Oh? And what did you think?"

"Well it seemed to have gone well because apparently you're throwing him a fundraiser. See? I told you he was alright."

"Yeah, I should've trusted you," Bruce said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Lysa laid her head against his shoulder. "I don't why you ever doubt me," she commented. "Oh, but him being the new Batman? That's hard to believe." Bruce didn't reply. He looked deep in thought. " _Are_ you looking to pass the torch to someone else?" she asked, her expression suddenly grave. Perhaps it wouldn't be an entirely bad thing… she'd have the comfort of knowing her father wasn't risking his life every night, and there'd still be a Batman to protect the city.

"I don't know," Bruce said, almost a whisper. "But don't worry about it." Lysa fought the urge to roll her eyes. _Like that would stop her from worrying about her father putting himself in danger._ She sighed and took a sip of her tea, which was now lukewarm.

Bruce kissed her forehead and walked away to his room. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. Though most of the lights in the penthouse were off, the lights of the cars and surrounding buildings made it easy to see. Lysa dumped her tea in the sink and walked slowly to her room.

That night she dreamt of the Batman, Harvey and the Joker.

8


End file.
